


Let's start simple: Where were you born, Grantaire?

by Destianne



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arguing, Bad English, Bad Parenting, Child Abuse, Developing Relationship, Flashbacks, I Don't Even Know, I have no idea where this will go, M/M, Memories, New York City, New York State, Parent Death, References to Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, What Was I Thinking?, Who is Beta?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 07:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destianne/pseuds/Destianne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire and Enjolras had some hard time together and after another incident with R almost drinking himself to death, Enjolras has enough. He wants to just leave, simple as that. And none of 'Taire's bullshit will keep him in this tiny apartment for long.<br/>Grantaire decides to share a story and face his demons to keep Apollo by his side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "You don't even know when my birthday is."

**Author's Note:**

> What is Beta? Yeah I just wanted to sort 'Taire's story and this happened. I'm not sorry.  
> PS. I suck at titles and summaries I know.

"You're just gonna stand there?"

Grantaire drank absinth straight from the bottle. It was awful, but numbed his mind. Without it, he'd probably go crazy seeing how his lover is packing his bags.

"Well... I'm not gonna help you." He said with low, husky voice.

Everything hurts so fucking much, he can barely stand on his feet with his eyes opened. But he does and he's so proud of himself that he's able to do that after second bottle.

"I should've known..." Enjolras is angry and he's throwing his clothes, creating this giant pill of mess that will not let him close this bag in a million years, but he doesn't seem to notice this detail.

"Known what? You don't know shit about me... Four months and you don't even know when's my fucking birthday?" He tried to laugh, but the sound that come out of his mouth was bitter like poison.

"Oh no, you're not gonna make this all my fault, you asshole." Younger guy shook his head, angrily.

"Why not? You're the one who almost get yourself killed for my present! Because of some stupid eco-gay-manif-shit. On my fucking birthday. You little egocentric shit."

This argument as going absolutely nowhere, and both of them knew that. It was fifth or even sixth time this week they had this conversation. Grantaire had enough, so he decided to finish his bottle of alcohol instead of getting emotional. It was easier this way. Theoretically.

"This was not a reason to drink yourself unconscious, but I guess you don't need one for that, right?" Blonde-haired man pointed at his now empty bottle.

"Get off me." R tried to keep his cold, cynical mask on.

Enjolras had no idea how he cared about him, and how sick with fear he was when he got this phone call from Courf, saying his marble statue is in a hospital.  
He was never the strong one. The only person that kept him in one piece was his Apollo - so how the hell could he manage this kind of fear and pain? He just hid from the world, haunted by memories and ghosts of the past, drinking everything away. Somewhere deep inside he was just a little, stupid boy who couldn't bear any trouble in his life and that was the thing Enjolras simply could not understand. He, perfect, strong Greek god who could fight endlessly.

"Give me five more minutes and you'll never see me again. Ever." He said, furiously.

"Oh, I'm sure." R nods.

He slowly went toward his bedside cabinet, hands shaking, mind tangled. He tried to found little something he hid there for worst times. It has to be in there. He put it in long before he first kissed his marble statue. He should've known statues can't love, right? He tried to find this thing desperatly, with his loud, unorganised moves, but he was struggling with this for so long, that it caught his lovers attention.

"What the heck you're looking for?"

"Not your business?" He mumbled. Absinthe so hot in his veins, making everything lot harder than it used to be.

"'Taire..." Enjolras was getting tired, confused and he didn't even tried to understand drunk man's actions, but it was so weird of him not trying to stop him? Not fighting and not screaming at him? What was he doing?

"Don't call me that! And leave already. You know where to put the keys, and, and-" He found it.

Little bottle of sleeping pills seemed like best idea ever right now. At first, Enjolras ignored this, not recognising the thing, but when he saw how Grantaire's shaking out handfull of pills...

"What the hell?" He said, with little panick in his voice, rushing at drunken man and taking away his drugs.

"You're still here? I thought you're leaving? Well I'm leaving too as you can see, so be that nice and give me back my fucking one-way ticket, Apollo. Now!"  
  
Enjolras wanted to ask is he joking, but Grantaire never sound so serious.

"No." He said, loudly and clearly. 

"Give it to me and get out of my life!" R cried, desperately.

It hit him. Grantaire wasn't doing this to keep him or to get his attention. He literally saw this as natural order - live without Enjolras equaled death, somewhere in this drunk, empty head.

"I'm not going anywhere, 'Taire. Calm down." He sat next to him, carefully.

"Leave, and free yourself at the same time!"

"Stop quoting 'Once' at me. Calm down, okay? You're drunk, 'Taire..." Blue eyes tried to catch other man's sight, but Grantaire was such mess, he looked at his empty hands, ignoring everything else like it would make him invisible.

"But you were right! You should go, you should... I'm a disappointment, you don't deserve this, all you said is truth. I don't want to make you sad, you know? I just... But you say this things, this awful things like you know me, and you don't. You know nothing about me, 'Jolras."

"How about you'll tell me?" 

Enjolras was like patient mother, maybe not the best one, but with child like drunken Grantaire any mother would do. This 23-year old was a mess of a man, he had absolutely nothing to believe in, not even his own life. How could he leave him? On the other hand - how could he stand him? With his own life to live?

"I'm drunk." Admitted R and lied on the bed. "I can't do logic. Ask me."

"Let's start simple: Where were you born, Grantaire?"

Enjolras lied next to him, on his side. 

"Queens. St Joseph's hospital. February 10th, 1989. As Grantaire Francis DuMont, son of Barbra and Francis." He said, half-automatically, like all those things we can say even when we're pissed as hell and half asleep.

"Okay, tell me about your first memory..." Enjolras smiled a little. Break-up tension was slowly going away.

"Are you sure you want to hear this?" R looked him in the eyes. "You don't want to go?"

"I never wanted to go, you idiot. Not for long. I'd probably go to Eponine's for a nigh or two to teach you a lesson." He said, his lips brushed his forehead.

"Lesson learned." Nodded Grantaire. "So if you want - well... My mother was like eighteen or less when she got pregnant and I was obviously less planned than our goldfish. Heck, she probably thought about abortion and believe me, there were nights I wished she done that." Alcohol numb him enough to let him speak with such ease like it was someone else's story. 


	2. Memories flow.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire finally decides to share his memories about early childhood. There's not always rainbows and butterflies.

It was unbelievable, at least for Enjolras, to hear this story. No one ever asked Grantaire about his past, all Amis just kinda accepted his presence like he's been always one of them.  
For Enjolras acceptance came later, since he had to argue with this drunkard about what's important and what's not while R was having absolutely great time with his cynical jokes about world and their place in it. But even leader of the group grew to stand him and - in time - he grew to love him.  
He realized that he needed him like air - his living contradiction. And now he forced him into this awkward conversation, while neither of them were sure where this will go.  
But Enjolras had to know, he needed to know. He wanted to help his love and he couldn't do that without knowing the problem. Grantaire was drunk to the point where he had little problems with putting words together into sentences, but the story went on.

"First memory? Giantic window I guess. Yeah, must be this. My bed was right next to it and I could be three years old at top. I don't remember exact colours, everything is either orange-y or greenish or white? It must be late summer then. I remember walls were painted in pastel-y blue. And I hear usual nosies of the street, you know - Cars passing by, kids laughing, old people talking too loud, cause they're almost deaf. That's it. Peacefull picture, without parents or anyone to mess with my happiness." He had this stupid grin on his face and Enjolras thought it makes him look like a teenage boy.

He put his hand in dark curls and kissed the top of his head.

"Yeah, good old days, huh?" Grantaire giggled. Alcohol made him forget about recent argument and he cuddled into Enjolras' side.

"Do you want me to keep talking?" He asked.

"Why not?" Enjolras placed another kiss on his hair and hugged him tightly.

"It's gonna get... less nice I guess." R mumbled quietly.

"If you don't want to tell me..."

"No, I do. I wanna. I just don't want you to have nightmares like I have." He shook his head, curls jumped and he pushed some of them off his forehead.

Enjolras used to thought his nightmares were just wicked dreams of intoxicated brain. Yeah, they happened from time to time, not to the ' _I should worry about him_ ' point (Now, when he thought about it, they happened almost exclusively when Grantaire was sober) but that could be caused by addiction, right?

"I want to know what happened so I could help you deal with it, you know?" He whispered.

"So I should stop talking, because you can't help me, 'Jolras. You can't. Don't even try I swear it'll be bad for you. You shouldn't listen to me, no, no..."

"I won't do anything you don't like me to, okay? Just... Just tell me what you want to share and keep what..."

"My dad was awful person." Grantaire started mumbling. "That's why I'm bad person too. Genetics, you know?" He shrugged lightly in Enjolras' arms.

Blonde guy tried to look him in the eye and say it's not true, that Grantaire is just lost, not bad in any way, but his lover kept on talking.

"I don't remember him sober. I don't have a single memory of him playing with me or taking me to a baseball game or you know - nothing that dads do. He had this job, he hated, some paperwork-cubic-beaurocratic shit, and he came home in the middle of the night, drunk and aggressive. I remember how he was saying all that bad things to mom, and she... She tried, you know? I don't blame her. She got pregnant with some asshole it was not her fault. She had this little job on a side for a while when I was in kindergarden. Sewing or something? It made her happy, I remember eating breakfast while she was doing it, smiling, you know? Father already in work, and she had some time for herself. Sometimes she read me a book, not exactly children one, more harlequin, but it was funny when she was doing this romantic voice " _Oh, Alfredo! Our love is forbidden!"_." He smiled to a memory. "It weren't that bad, at least not for me because I was half the time in the kindergarten and half the time asleep. I remember she left her job one day, after crying for a week or so. I guess father had some issues with it. He and his giant ego.  Controling freak..." He was slowly becoming angry. "And then I began to see marks on her arms. It was awful and I felt scared even thought she was so beautifully lying about it." He said with bitter tone.

Enjolras hugged him tight, trying to kiss his pain and anger away. Lips brushing against his cheeks gently, hands softly caressing his hair. Grantaire couldn't look at him, ashamed of what he was just talking about, but his beloved seemed to accept this story. 

"It's okay, 'Taire." He whispered.

In silence, they lied so close, that blonde man could actually hear how Grantaire's heart slowed down when he fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback makes me do a happy dance. Even if it's just grammar nazi.


End file.
